“What’s with you, man?” Oliver asks, shoving his friend in the shoulder. Gabriel is zoned out, completely oblivious to the blaring music, the stench of vomit wafting from the overflowing toilet down the hall, and his wannabe pole dancer girlfriend using his leg for an impromptu dance. “Claire is all over you.”
Gabriel pushes up off the couch, spilling a very drunk Claire onto the floor. He stumbles over her, not caring to stick around to hear her shrill ranting. He needs air. He pushes through the back door and falls onto a plastic lounge chair.
Staring up at the stars, all he can see is Rose. Her silky skin, long delicate bronze tresses, gorgeous eyes that see right through him, and the full lips that he knows will haunt his dreams. He doesn’t want to be at this party. He does not want Claire dry humping his leg like a dog in heat. He wants Rose—beautiful, mysterious Rose.
What is it about her that feels so right? He has dated several girls over the years, but none has ever gripped him so tightly. Nor have they felt electric to the touch.
Gabriel buries his head in his hands. He clamps his eyes shut as the world begins to spin. Drinking was a really bad idea, but he needed to take the edge off. Now all he’s managed to do is compound his problems.
He sinks to the ground, disappearing into the shadows as he crawls on hands and knees to the cool damp grass. It feels like slipping into a refreshing pool on a sweltering day. His skin is on fire, fueled by a bubbling volcano in the pit of his stomach.
Something is wrong. Very wrong. This isn’t because of drinking—something much worse is happening.
Pain radiates through Gabriel’s chest, squeezing his heart and wringing the air from his lungs. His fingers claws in the dirt, inching toward the floodlight illuminating the deck. He can see people dancing just beyond, their movements distorted in the strobe lights. Loud music rattles the windows, blocking out his cries for help.
He rolls onto his back as the pain spirals out from his heart, racing through his veins. His fingers fumble in his pocket for his cell phone. It falls onto the grass beside him. Gabriel grits his teeth against the pain as he tries to still the trembling in his fingers long enough to dial 911.
It’s a struggle to breathe as he writhes on the ground. His shirt and pants soak through but it does little to ease the flames under his skin.
He feels something shifting—like his entire genetic code is adapting. The fires begin to smolder, retreating back to his core. It rounds his heart and shoots out through his eyes. The pain vanishes as a pure blue light explodes from between closed eyelids.
Energy floods through his body. His mind screams in ecstasy as his cells erupt with sensitivity, overwhelming his senses.
Gabriel passes out.
Nine